


Home is where the ( ) is

by momopichu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, I'll think about it, M/M, Reaper76 Week, Reaper76 Week 2018, Violence, possibly some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 07:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13383366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momopichu/pseuds/momopichu
Summary: For R76 Week (2018)Day 1: “War buddies” - war/battlesDay 2: “They loved each other” - love/affectionDay 3: “Thankful” - gratitude/admirationDay 4: “Defended” - defense/supportDay 5: “Downfall” - falling out/heartacheDay 6: “Questionable actions” - secrets/revelationsDay 7: “Depth of relationship” - shared lifetimes/togetherness/alternate universes





	1. War Buddies

_ ;;First Omnic Crisis _

The flickering glow of the biotic field stuttered, spitting bursts of golden nanites into the air. A sharp kick to the little device rooted into the ground steadied it, causing the biotic field to regain a semblance of functionality. It still flickered now and then, the healing field occasionally blacking out like a candle under a strong wind, but it would always regain its steady golden hue.

Jack watched the device with a stare that could very well have been looking past the biotic field yet fixed on nothing at all. He sat with knees drawn up to his chest, arms crossed over the limbs and head tucked into their folds.

Faulty new tech, he grumbled in his thoughts. He would never understand why the technicians were so determined to toss out every single new technology onto the battlefield without having properly tested the items in the labs first. It was as if they were hoping to get lucky with one of their macabre gadjets and just bench the war’s success on that - but woe be to the unlucky soldier that gets a prototype gun that explodes in their arms.

Jack had gotten both lucky and unlucky in a way.

The biotic fields were more-or-less a success as they  _ did _ provide the emergency healing that a ground team needed.  _ But _ , the nanites within the canisters were a hit and miss. Not all the devices contained working nanites and those that did had a tendency to waver like the one Jack was currently dealing with. And as if that was the last of his problems; sit too long in a biotic field and you’d go as pruny as a grape left out in the hot afternoon sun, sit too short, and the nanites might not even take effect.

And of course, sitting in it at all made you as itchy as if you sat in a buzzing ants nest rather than a healing field - as Jack was currently discovering. Grumbling lowly, the blond nestled deeper into his little shelter.

“What’s with the face?”

Jack perked his head up, blue eyes instantly jolting to tall, dark and handsome currently squeezing into the foxhole. Gabriel cursed as handfuls of soil came loose, clinging to his body armor and hips where he had difficulty worming his way in. A few quick pats, scattered the remaining dirt - making Jack sputter.

“Gabe! Quit it!” he coughed.

Gabriel ignored him, deliberately bending over to swipe the dirt off his boots, effectively shoving his ass in Jack’s face, courtesy of the small space.

Jack gagged, slapping the meaty thing away from his nose much to Gabriel’s amusement. Like a child, he turned his head away as the older man flopped down beside him to share the biotic field.

“Jack…” Gabriel sing-songed.

Jack turned his head even further away, if that was possible, pivoting his bottom like a tantrum throwing baby.

“Aww come on Jackie,” Gabriel laughed. “Don’t be like that.”

Jack turned his nose up.

A gloved hand abruptly came up to roughly brush at the corner of his lip, the broad thumb rubbing circles into the skin. Jack’s face scrunched up and he twisted away from Gabriel’s touch with an annoyed whine. He was hungry, cold, tired, and itchy from the biotic field, the last thing Jack wanted right now was to be bothered. But Gabriel wasn’t getting the memo.

“Gabe,” Jack protested, twisting away once more as Gabriel’s hand came back to rub at the corner of his lip.

“Just- Hold still Jackie,” Gabriel grumbled. “You’ve got blood stuck to your cheek.”

“I’ve got blood stuck everywhere,” Jack complained.

“And who’s fault was it to go attack a Bastion with his mouth?” Gabriel retorted.

“Jealous?”

The rubbing thumb halted. 

And then Jack’s undignified yelp was being muffled by a gloved hand as Gabriel manhandled the blond into his lap and curled his arms around the squirming man. Once Jack was more-or-less settled, the cleaning hand came back, rubbing at the blood with increased ferocity.

“I won’t ask why you decided that biting an omnic was a good idea Jack,” Gabriel huffed. “And I’m not jealous…Okay maybe a little, but that doesn’t change the-  _ Jesus _ , is this blood mixed with super glue or something?”

Jack twisted his head to watch as Gabriel shucked his glove off with the help of his teeth before briefly licking his thumb and resuming his cleaning of Jack with the added spit. The blond soldier took the added washing with half-lidded eyes and a low grumble that could very well have been a purr if he was a cat. He was still hungry, of course. But at least the cold part had been dealt with and he was resting. The itch was an annoying side-effect Jack couldn’t remedy but being covered in the safety of Gabriel’s arms? He could overlook that.

“Asleep on me already?” Gabriel accused. There was a hint of fondness in his voice, rumbling in the depths of his chest as Jack burrowed deeper to find a comfortable position. Gently, Gabriel lifted Jack’s chin to plant a soft kiss against the bloodied lips. “Sleep well babe, I’ll take first watch.”

Jack nuzzled his nose into Gabriel’s neck, and fell asleep to the lullaby of mortar fire outside their foxhole.

 

...


	2. They loved each other

_Then_ ;

In the remains of an abandoned city torn to ruins by stampeding bastions, a small ceremony is held under an arcade that once contained shops bustling with extravagant trade. The crystal chandeliers and mosaics that once adorned the ceiling have long been destroyed, their remains trampled to dust under fleeing feet. It is the most unlikely place to hold any sort of event but the attendees do not have much choice. The war is still at large and ‘tomorrow’ brings new challenges that they must face. So for today, they grace the grimy archways with ribbons made of torn shirts, prop wooden boxes to use as pews, and stack their chocolate rations together in a semblance of a multilayer cake.

Carefully, as if he held spun glass, Gabriel slid the ring, made of torn bandage, onto Jack’s finger. It was a weak thing, taken from the same bandage that had been wrapped around his ankle not moments earlier. A chipped piece of glass, probably from some poor soldier’s broken scope, acted as the cloth ring’s centrepiece. It wasn’t a diamond by any means, but it still caught the light of the fading sun spilling through the archways above, the dirt and blood flecked amongst its faucets splintering the light as a real gem would. That done, he leaned back, inspecting his work with a small smile that stretched to the corners of his eyes and flickered in the depths of his heart like a candle in the night.

Jack returned the look, cerulean blue eyes glowing with the shimmer of a Mediterranean sea. With the same care that Gabriel had showed, he took the older man’s hand and gently tied a meager strip of cloth - a fragment torn from his blue coat - around the ring finger. Long with threads fraying, Jack wound the makeshift ring as if he wrapped a piece of silk around brittle ice. Another piece of glass was slipped into the cloth’s folds, taken from the same shattered scope they had found in the remains of the ruined city. When he was done, a blue ring of cloth with a bloody piece of glass sat on Gabriel’s finger; a promise, as firm and strong as the resolve and devotion they had shown one another in this time of desperation and need.

“And now, you are married!” Ana announced.

Their watching squad, a small mismatched team of six unlikely individuals, burst into applause and cheers, waving tin mugs filled with a drab excuses for beer and MRE packs. Somehow, Torbjörn had managed to fashion some party poppers and Gerard - with the help of Reinhardt - had crafted some ‘flowers’ from spare bandages. They showered both confetti and cloth-petals over the newlyweds as they kissed, grasping at each other with desperate hands and melding their breaths together so thoroughly that it would be impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

They had agreed; that the rings of flimsy cloth and broken glass were only temporary. That once they had found their peace, they would replace the makeshift jewelry for something more solid, more permanent.

They would renew their vows.

Have a _proper_ ceremony with their families in attendance.

And walk into the future together without fear of what tomorrow would bring.

 

* * *

It would have been beautiful.

Or it should have.

 

* * *

  
_Now_ ;

In a back alley rife with broken bottles and skittish rats, a man with hair of starlight silver leaned back against the moldy brick walls and sank to his haunches clasping his gut. Old mattresses and wet cardboard boxes littered the place, their surfaces indented with the prints of former occupants looking for a place to weather the cold harsh nights. It is the most unlikely place for the man, who is clearly injured, to nurse his wounds. But he has no choice. His muscles feel as taut as the stretched rubber under a tyre, burning too hot and worn too thin. His breath rasped in his throat, bubbling like a frothing cauldron both from the blood and from his desperate attempts at breathing.

He is exhausted.

_Jack_ is exhausted.

Lifting his hand away from his gut, he inspected the perfect circle drawn in the tattered remains of his jacket and on his pale skin. Right in the side, a clean shot through the kidney. Perhaps it was the shock, but he found it almost interesting that there was even that much blood in his body – blood that was leaking out.

With jerky motions and limbs that refused to cooperate, Jack wrenched his soggy gloves off his hands and tossed them aside. They were useless anyway, drenched with questionable substances and worn raw. But as his hands breached the cold air, lit up by a ray of moonlight, he paused in his motions, dull blue eyes dragging to the little rotten band that still sat snugly on a ring finger.

The bandage that used to serve as the ring’s band had lost its undyed cotton hue, turning the once white surface to a grimy brown. The piece of glass, oddly enough, seemed to have coloured itself a deeper red, crusted with new cracks and dust. Still, it was the most beautiful thing Jack had laid his eyes on in recent months.

A shame, that the threads that held the ring together were coming undone.

Fraying at the edges, strands worming their way free of the weave, the bandage ring was slowly unraveling, just as the ethereal string that held him tied down to this life was.

Jack sighed. He wondered if Gabriel still had his.

 

...


End file.
